


Brooklyn 69

by what_hasnt_been_taken_yet



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_hasnt_been_taken_yet/pseuds/what_hasnt_been_taken_yet
Summary: Detective Karkat Vantas considers himself one of the best cops in all of Brooklyn. There's just one case he can't solve- and it's driving him insane.If it wasn't obvious, this is 100% inspired by Brooklyn 99.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Jake English/Dirk Strider, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

"So, you finally cuffed me. What're you gonna do now?"

Dave sits in a chair, hands cuffed behind his back, his ridiculously large shades sitting askew on his face. A triumphant Karkat stands in front of him, arms crossed, a sharp smirk plastered on his face. He leans in close to Dave's ear, turning down his volume for once, making it so that Dave can just barely hear his reply. "I'm gonna have the best fucking day of my life."

~One Year Prior~

Detective Karkat Vantas sits at his desk, idly sipping a coffee gone cold, much like the case he's studying. A quite notable car thief that Vantas had tracked early in his career, nicknamed the Mustang Jacker, had disappeared two years ago, after a ridiculously long car chase in which Vantas almost caught a glimpse of his arch-nemesis. Even with the case quiet for this long, Vantas still obsessed with catching him. He hated that he'd let a perp this low-level slip through his fingers.

"Hey, KK, still tracking that car thief? Hasn't that case been cold for like two years now?" Karkat's coworker, Sollux, asks, not looking up from the keyboard his fingers are flying over.

"Sollux, if you don't shut that cretinous mouth of yours I will steal a dirty sock from the evidence locker and shove it down your throat."

"Nice to know you still have manners," Sollux huffs indignantly, rolling his eyes.

"Listen, there's been an increase in car jacking in the area, and a lot of it is matching the Mustang's MO. He could be back." Karkat flips through his file, pulling out papers listing some of the more recent car thefts.

"KK, you've pulled that kinda shit about ten times in the last year. When are you gonna admit it's just wishful thinking, and you're never gonna get the dude?"

Karkat glares at his friend, his hand tightening around his paper coffee cup. "It's not' wishful thinking', you spineless meatsack, it's called following a lead. I don't know if you know what a lead is, but it's something a real detective follows when he isn't fucking sitting on his ass all day. I'm a fucking great detective, so don't waste a single second of your already worthless life thinking otherwise."

Sollux sneers, finally looking up from his computer. "Damn, sorry, didn't realize that focusing on cybercrime meant I don't spend just as much time busting perps as you do. Guess I won't be helping you next time you need me to beef up your antivirus."

"I never needed you to do that, dipshit, we have an actual IT guy who works at the precinct. Or did you not know you were doing all of Steve's work for him?" The coffee cup begins crumpling in Karkat's tight grasp.

"Oh, please, we all know my firewalls are better than anything that dude could even dream of setting up. I don't get why the captain ever hired him. Besides, you don't even like Steve!"

"Yeah, well I don't think I like you much either, asshole!" The lid of Karkat's coffee cup pops off, smacking right into his face and earning him a snicker from Sollux. "Fuck off, you mold-licking-"

"Vantas and Captor, cease this childish bickering at once." Captain Maryam's voice rings out clearly from the elevator, immediately silencing Karkat's tirade and setting a grumbling Sollux back to his task. As she passes their desks, she adds, "Karkat, could you please come to my office?"

"Someone's in trouble," Sollux mumbles teasingly, earning a final glare from Karkat as he gets up and follows the captain. He had always been somewhat intimidated by Maryam- he was sure that behind her elegant demeanor lurked a vicious beast that could tear him in two if she wanted. He was just glad she was on the right side of the law, and that she was also extremely fond of all of her officers.

Maryam sits down behind her desk, motioning for Karkat to do the same. "You have been tracking a car thief for quite some time, correct?" she asks, in a tone which suggests she already has the answer. Hell, she probably has all the answers to any possible question.

"Yeah. The Mustang Jacker. His case has been dead for years." Karkat clears his throat nervously, before continuing. "But there have been some thefts this past month which I think match his MO."

"Indeed." Maryam pauses, lacing her fingers together calculatingly.

"I believe I have a case that may interest you."

Karkat tries not to lean forward too eagerly. "What is it?"

Kanaya's face usually betrays no emotion, but on this occasion her features are unusually calm. Which is what shocks Karkat so much when she speaks in that same placid demeanor. "My car was stolen this morning."

"What?" Karkat sucks in a breath, the outrage on his face a drastic reaction compared to Kanaya's. "Who would fucking dare to steal a police car, let alone a police captain's?"

"Calm down, Vantas," Kanaya says, cringing slightly at Karkat's language use. "I believe the perpetrator may be your 'Mustang Jacker'."

Karkat chews on his lip, eyes wide, his mind immediately racing. "You didn't drive a Mustang, but it's possible he didn't limit himself to that brand of car. Do you think he's trying to taunt me- or, uh, us?"

Maryam nods. "Either that, or he is trying to get our attention." She reaches into a pocket of her jacket, pulling out a plastic bag with a slip of paper. "I found this in my driveway this morning, where the car is usually parked. You can hand it to forensics, but I doubt there will be prints."

Karkat reads the note silently through the plastic.

dear captain of the 69 (wink) 

tell vantas hes right

im back

love, mj

"Unless the note is a fake meant to throw us off, your thief is in operation again, and, just like before, he is toying with us."

Karkat places the note in his pocket, shaking in an effort to appear professional. "I will add your case to the pile, Captain," he says in a trembling voice.

"I appreciate that. Dismissed."

Karkat stands up calmly, walks out of her office calmly, shuts the door behind him calmly. As soon as it shuts, he whips on Sollux and yells, "Did you hear that, numbnuts? The Mustang Jacker is back, you fucking bilge-scraper!"

Kanaya pokes her head out of her door, frowning. "Karkat, what have I said about volume?"

Karkat turns red, sheepishly turning back to his captain. "Sorry, ma'am." As soon as her head retreats back into her office, he turns back to Sollux and whisper-shouts, "I was right, you cretinous sludge!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all just wanted to let you know this fic is mostly a fun side-project for me. aka updates will not be very frequent  
> but while you're waiting you can def check out my other stuff *wink*  
> anyway thanks for reading!!


	2. Chapter 2

Detective Vantas begins working on the Mustang's case in earnest, pinning down the other recent car thefts that matched his MO. The Jacker mainly targeted Mustangs. He left no evidence of the theft or who he was, aside from the occasional cryptic note typed in red, addressed to the 69th precinct or to Vantas himself. The stolen cars mostly showed up on the black market a week later, either sold whole or in pieces. There were 32 cases of grand theft auto confirmed to have been perpetrated by the Mustang, but almost 200 more suspected cases which matched his MO. They had few witnesses, most of whom were untrustworthy- a few auto mechanics who had scrapped or sold cars which were stolen by the Mustang, along with some civilians who claimed to have seen the thief. The mechanics' descriptions of the Jacker were consistent with each other, describing a short, pudgy, middle-aged white male, but the civilian accounts contradicted, as most described the thief as tall and lean. The mechanics could be reporting false information, while the civilians may have been witnessing other car thefts, or their accounts may be unreliable, so in short Karkat didn't know what info to trust. He had few leads to go on and only vague ideas for suspects. He was frustrated and running on empty, but he wasn't going to let himself burn out this time.

It was hard as fuck for him not to get discouraged, though. The thefts had increased almost exponentially, and it seemed that by the time he got to the scene of one theft, he had three more to visit. Almost every day he would get another note, taunting him, making his blood boil, but that anger kept him on the hunt.

It only pissed him off more when, a few days after the Jacker stole Maryam's car, it turned up outside Karkat's apartment complex, with another note.

thought it would only be right to return your captains car

take this as a reminder to try harder to find me

This guy wanted to mess around with him? Fine. He could mess around right back.

It was about two weeks after the Mustang announced his return that Karkat came up with the idea. It was the exact kind of reckless, expensive idea that could cost him his job, but if it paid off he might just catch his guy.

"I need to buy a car." Karkat leans over Captain Maryam's desk, his face set and determined.

Maryam looks up with an iota of shock. "What?"

"I need to buy a car. To catch the Mustang."

Maryam blinks slowly, looking up at her detective with concern. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

Karkat sighs, straightens up and shoves his hands in his jean pockets. This was the tough part. "I don't have the money to buy the kind of car he would steal. I want to use precinct money."

Now it's Kanaya's turn to sigh. She laces her hands together, resting them on the desk. "One, you obviously have a flawed view on how our funds work. Two, I cannot authorize using funds on such a thing. Three, I am not sure this case is imperative enough to warrant such a risky and expensive ploy. Four, do you think it is possible you have become too invested in this case?"

"No!" Karkat frowns, taking a seat. If he was going to convince her to do this, he was going to be here a while. "I mean... sorry, ma'am. I just think this case is more important than you realize. Face it, this dude can probably claim half of the grand theft auto charges in the Brooklyn area. He's a big fucking deal. I've only invested as much as I think is needed to get this guy."

Kanaya shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Karkat. I do not have funds to give you. Find another way to get a car, or find another way to catch your criminal. Dismissed."

Karkat groaned, but left the captain's office. He knew when to stop pushing.

"Told you your idea was stupid, KK," Sollux taunts, reading Karkat's obviously upset face.

"If another word comes out of that misshapen hole you call a mouth I will make sure you never speak again."

Sollux rolls his eyes, continuing to speak despite Karkat's warning. "Damn, someone's worked up. What're you gonna do now?"

"My job, idiot." He sits down at his desk, closing the three tabs of Google searches for 'CHEAP MUSTANGS LEGALLY FOR SALE' and crumpling over his desk with a groan. He didn’t have a single idea on what to do next.

“Need help, Karkitty?” Karkat nearly jumps out of his chair at the sudden appearance of Detective Leijon next to him. He really should be used to her popping up silently behind him, but it still scared the shit out of him every time.

“Shit, Nepeta, would it kill you to walk up to me less stealthily?”

“Oh, Karkat,” she practically purrs, leaning on his chair. “You know I’m only capable of sneaking up on people. It’s my default mode.”

“Well maybe try getting a new default mode.” Karkat sighs, turning to face her. “Anyway, what did you want?”

“l saw you were struggling from across the room and thought I could be of some assistance!”

“Ugh. Usually I wouldn’t fucking conscript people onto my cases, cause we’re all busy enough as is, but I would honestly love if you could give me a clue.”

Nepeta sits down on his desk, completely ignoring the empty chair next to Karkatas a viable seating option. “You’re looking for a car thief, correct?”

“Yeah, if you wanna put it in the simplest fucking terms possible.”

“How are you stalking your prey?”

Karkat pauses, his face scrunching up as he thinks. “I’m… not? I don’t know, I don’t have a single lead on this asshole. I don’t know how to find him, or how to figure out where he’ll strike next.”

“Well, how do you think this thief of yours picks cars to steal?”

“Huh.” He crosses his arms, staring at the case file Nepeta was halfway sitting on. “I guess he just walks around until he sees a nice car he likes?”

Nepeta clucked her tongue. “Oh, Karkat, you sweet baby kitten.”

“What? What am I fucking missing?”

She taps his computer screen, her nail clacking on the glass. “Why would someone spend their time looking on foot when they have the entire internet at their disposal?”

“I… uh…” Karkat’s mouth was hanging slightly open, his entire face slack in bewilderment. “How… how would I even… how does that work?”

She giggled, shaking her head in disapproval. Reaching down, she typed out a few words in the Google search bar- ‘mustang cars in new york blog’- and hit enter. Sure enough, there was a weirdo out there who photographed and blogged about every Mustang they saw in New York. Karkat scrolled through the entries, his astonishment only growing. Nepeta smirked and slid off his desk. “I’ll leave you to it, Karkitty.”

“Thanks, Nep.” Getting down to business, Karkat went through the most recent blog posts, running the license plates for every Mustang, linking the cars to their owners' addresses, narrowing the list down to those within Brooklyn. After about four hours, he had six cars, one of which may potentially be the Jacker's next target. He picked the one closest to the areas the Jacker frequented. _Guess I'm on stakeout duty tonight_ , Karkat thought, leaning back in his chair. His hunches were usually on point, but he didn't want to waste his time watching some car that the Jacker might not even be considering.

There was just one more problem- going on a stakeout meant he had to bring his partner. He'd been avoiding working with him on the case- he wasn't as invested in the case as he was, and on top of that he was a little hard to work with. But now it was unavoidable.

"John, I'm doing a stakeout tonight to watch a potential hit for the Mustang, so you better fucking come with."

Detective John Egbert looks over from his desk, smiling widely. "Ooh, a stakeout? Count me in! I love a good stakeout! Maybe I can finally show you Con-Air!"

Karkat facepalms, muttering, "What did I do to deserve such weirdo coworkers?"

“This is for the Mustang Jacker?” John asks, bounding over to Karkat’s desk and looking over his case notes. “Sounds legit to me! Let’s tell Kanaya.”

“Ugh.” Karkat swivels in his chair and stands up. “Come on, you annoying ball of sunshine.” He re-enters Maryam’s office, John following behind like an overexcited puppy. “Hey, Captain.”

Kanaya looks up, unamused. “Did you bring back-up for your proposal this time? Because my answer to letting you buy a car is still no. Even if Detective Egbert is asking.”

“No, no, I figured out a better idea.” He explains the research he’d done and his new plan to get more clues on the Jacker. Kanaya’s eyes narrow as his story progresses.

“This sounds like a waste of your time, Vantas. How do you know the Jacker will target this vehicle? You might just miss out on him stealing other cars as you idle the day away watching this one.”

“Well, I don’t have any other leads on the dude, and this seems like the most likely option. At this point I gotta take a few risks.”

Maryam mulls it over, placing her elbows on her desk and steepling her fingers. “How certain are you that this will help your case?”

Karkat shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe sixty percent? I’m definitely gonna learn _something_ about the perp from this.”

“Hmm.” She stares at Karkat for a few moments, her eyes piercing into him, reading him for something- though what that something was, Karkat had no clue. “Very well. If you think it worthwhile, I approve your request for a stakeout. This had better bring results, Karkat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Karkat gives her an awkward half-salute before retreating from the office.

As soon as they were out, John pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! We’re going on a stakeout! I’m so excited!” John puts up a hand for a high-five, which is promptly ignored by Karkat.

“Yeah, _real_ fun, sitting in a car waiting for something to happen for hours.” Karkat walks away, shooting a look back at John. “Be ready at seven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh yes we love detectives making desperate plans to catch their criminal  
> thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat and John go on a stakeout.

After two hours of sitting down the street from a Mustang in a nondescript car, Karkat begins to feel restless. Especially with John next to him, constantly trying to engage him in conversation to keep their mood up and their boredom at bay. But with only Karkat's negative energy to feed off of, John was also fighting the need to stretch his legs. He hated being idle for this long.

"Ugh, I hate admitting this, but maybe my hunch was wrong," Karkat grumbles, sinking lower in his seat.

"You  _ were _ going off of practically nothing!" John replies, in a much too cheerful tone. "I mean, it would be wild if you were right about this."

"I just can't think of any other way to catch this asshole!" He makes as if to slam his fist into the dashboard, but puts no muscle behind it, giving it more of a fist bump than anything. "I mean, the guy leaves no trace, is almost never caught, or even seen, and the witnesses we do get contradict each other! There's nothing for me to follow. It's like he's a fucking ghost."

John shrugs, giving Karkat an encouraging smile. "Cheer up, Karkat! Our job is to find that one thing that sticks out. I've seen you solve impossible cases before, Karkat, and this guy is nothing compared to those. If anyone's gonna get the Mustang Jacker, it's gonna be you."

"Thanks, John."

"Though, to be fair, you're the only guy working on the case, so you're the only one who could possibly solve it. Might wanna work a little harder!" John elbows him lightly.

Karkat glares at him, crossing his arms. "Wow. And to think for a second there I actually thought you were giving me a vote of confidence!"

"Why would I do that when you have enough self-confidence to- wait." John pauses, staring out the front windshield. "I think something's happening."

Karkat bolts up, eyes locking with the Mustang. Immediately he spots what John saw- a dude leaning against a building, his eyes flickering between the car and the street. Karkat's whole body tenses, leaning forward in anticipation. "If this guy makes one wrong step towards that car I'm gonna fucking charge at him, and you better be right fucking behind me, Egbert, you got that?"

He nods, also tensed in anticipation, a semi-serious expression on his face. As much as he loved joking around, when it came to business, he was  _ all  _ business. "You know I never let you down."

"Yeah, probably because I constantly expect to be disappointed in everyone."

The shady dude shields his eyes from the sun with one hand, still making furtive glances to the car. When the street is mostly empty, he makes his way to the car at a fast pace.

"I've fucking got you, you elusive dickwad," Karkat mutters under his breath. "Make one more wrong move, I fucking dare you."

The guy reaches the driver's side door, pulls something from his jacket pocket, and seems to fiddle with the car for a few minutes, much longer than necessary, before the door pops open.

As soon as it does, Karkat shoves open the door of his car, rushing at the man as he's sliding into the Mustang. "Get out of the car and put your hands up!" he yells, one hand at his hip, the other holding out his badge. "This is the police!" He can hear John’s quick footsteps close behind him.

The guy looks up in alarm, jumping out of the car immediately and putting his hands in the air, a panicked look on his face. He's a relatively young dude, probably late 20s or early 30s, with wild, black hair, a square pair of glasses, and an unfortunate pair of buckteeth. He's wearing a green leather jacket over a tank top, and his shorts are tight and show way too much leg. It worries Karkat how little this guy looks like a criminal. "What's the problem, officer?" he asks politely, if a little afraid, in a distinct British accent.

Karkat shoos away his doubts, recalling how suspiciously the man had been acting before. "Get on the ground."

The man has the audacity to shake his head at Karkat. "I apologize, officer, but I will not comply until you tell me what I've done that's got you hot and bothered."

"Resisting arrest, huh?" John replies from behind Karkat. "That’s definitely not helping your case, sir."

"You are being arrested for attempting to steal this car," Karkat says, his hand tapping on his gun suggestively. "I would advise you to get on your fucking knees and comply."

"But this is my automobile!" the guy replies, exasperated. "Look, I can show you my driver's license, you can run my plates. It'll prove that this vehicle belongs to me."

The doubt was creeping through Karkat again, impossible to ignore this time. "Don't reach for your license, just tell me where it is."

"It's in my wallet, in my back pocket."

Keeping his eyes trained on the guy, Karkat walks around him, grabs the wallet from the pocket of the guy's booty shorts, and comes around to stand next to John again. He flips open the wallet, pulling out an ID for... "Jake English?"

The guy nods enthusiastically. "Yes, officer. That's the moniker I have gone by since my first breath." At Karkat's gloomy glare, Jake tacks on, "Sir."

Karkat hands the ID to John. "Go run this and the license plate for me." He sighs, crossing his arms, instinctively knowing this dude was clean. Naive, and maybe a bit of an idiot, but definitely not a criminal, let alone the Mustang Jacker.

Jake watches warily as Karkat takes his hand off of his gun holster, his own hands still hovering above his head. "Is there... a problem, officer?" he asks timidly.

Karkat scowls, crossing his arms. "You can put your fucking hands down." He pinches the bridge of his nose as Jake slowly brings his arms to his sides. "Listen, I'm sorry about all this. Clearly you're not the asshole I'm looking for. I've just been jumpy and on edge and ready to close this god-forsaken case for two long years, and it's caused me to make some bad calls."

"It's quite alright, chap," Jake says, though he shifts uncomfortably. "You're clearly very frustrated about this. Perhaps a well-earned break is in order?"

"I don't deserve a break until I book this bastard!" Karkat snaps, his fingers tightening around his arms. "After I get him, sure! I'll vacation for weeks, or even months, who fucking knows! I'll get as far away from Brooklyn as humanly possible, far away from reminders of my constant fuck-ups!"

Jake blinks behind his square glasses. "Uh... sounds very relaxing to me!" he replies, with as much false cheer as he can muster. Which, from Jake English, is apparently quite a lot.

John returns, holding the ID out to Jake. "He's clear. Everything matches, and he's got a pretty clean record. There was just one B&E incident a few years ago with... an archeological site." He peers at Jake curiously. “I dunno what that’s all about, but sounds like a fun story!”

He nods, his cheeks turning red. "Sure, it was fun, but cahorting around with dinosaur bones was  _ not _ the brightest idea I’ve had. Believe me, I learned that the hard way. No more breaking and entering for this old devil." He leans towards John, beaming with pride. "Not that I need to anymore. I get special access to the bones now, what with me being a full-fledged paleontologist and all."

"Oh!" John’s eyes practically sparkle. “That’s awesome, man! I’m glad you got the job!”

Karkat pushes them apart. "Okay, enough you two. Why am I always fucking surrounded by dorks?" He practically forces the wallet into Jake's hand. "Here you go, we'll be on our way now! Say goodbye, Egbert." He stalks back to the car, practically fuming.

John winks at Jake as he follows Karkat. “Stay out of trouble, Mr. English!” he called, before flopping into the car. "Well that was fun! Embarrassing for you, but-"

"Can you shut your infuriatingly cheerful mouth for once?" Karkat yells, slamming the car door shut. "Sure, I was embarrassingly pathetic and idiotic, but I don't exactly need you to rub it in!"

John rolls his eyes, popping open the glovebox. "You made a mistake. It happens to the best of us. You’ll get over it!" He pulls a pack of gum from the glovebox, holding it out to Karkat. "Gum?"

He shoves the pack away, shaking his head. "It happens to everyone except me. I might fuck up in every other aspect of my life, but I do not make mistakes in my job."

Egbert shrugs, placing a stick of gum in her mouth. "Whatever you say, Karkat." He watches through the windshield as Jake English gets into his car, starts it with a roar that wakes up the bird sitting on top of it, and drives away. "There goes our stakeout. Wanna find another car to watch and accost the owner of?"

Karkat has to close his eyes and take a couple of breaths to keep from shouting any louder. "I think we can both agree that this bullshit plan was an insanely desperate ploy to get any sort of lead on this elusive bastard. So how about we just give up on this pointless stakeout- hell, let's give up on this guy altogether!"

"You're a lot of things, Karkat Vantas," John starts, putting a hand on Karkat's shoulder, "but you are not a quitter. You're gonna work on this case with everything you’ve got, and I know you’re gonna catch this guy!” Karkat gives him a begrudgingly grateful look at the compliment. "That being said, this plan does kinda suck. Let's go back to the precinct and think up a new plan."

"Yeah, okay." Karkat starts up the car with a sigh. Back to the drawing board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp no dice for detective vantas he'll get 'em next time  
> thanks for reading!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mustang Jacker gives Karkat the slip once again.

The next day, another car is reported stolen, the car in question belonging to none other than Jake English.

Karkat had stared in disbelief at the report, checking and rechecking the license plate to make sure it really was the same car he had staked out the day before. It doesn't even fully hit him until Jake himself walks into the bullpen, nervously fiddling with his glasses, prepared to give his statement.

Karkat motions silently for the British man to sit in the chair next to his desk, and doesn't acknowledge him otherwise, his eyes glazed over and gazing unfocused at his computer screen.

"Uh... Detective Vantas... sir?" Jake says slowly, leaning towards him. "Are you quite alright?"

Karkat jerks to attention, swiveling to face Jake. The look on his face is one of pure, unadulterated rage, and the full intensity of it is enough to make Jake flinch. Through clenched teeth he says, "Could you excuse me for just a moment?"

Jake nods, a bit frightened by the detective. Or, if he was being honest with himself, completely frightened. "Yes, of cour-" He's cut off by Karkat abruptly standing up and marching away. He watches the angry man go in bewilderment. "Well, okay, then," he mutters.

Karkat makes a beeline for the restroom, checks that it's empty, and heads towards the nearest stall. Then he rests his head against the cool tile wall, closes his eyes, and lets out a continuous, eardrum-bursting, furious scream, until his vision starts to go black from oxygen deprivation. He finally stops to take a few breaths, then tops his scream sundae with a punch cherry, slamming his fist into the wall. "Fuck!"

From the bullpen, the scream is distant, but not very muffled, at least not to the point where the inhabitants don't know exactly what's going on. And even if they didn't, it wasn't the first time Karkat's let out his frustration this way. At least he wasn't ripping apart the break room again.

Sergeant Jane Crocker goes to check on him, because she’s the only person with enough gusto who's willing to deal with Karkat when he's this explosive. She marches into the bathroom, not giving two shits that it’s the men’s room. "Karkat? Everything okay in there? You've left that British dude waiting at your desk."

"He's fucking with me!" Karkat shouts from behind the stall door. "He knows every move I make, and he's one step ahead every time, and he keeps fucking with me!"

Jane steps closer to the stall. "You're talking about the Mustang Jacker, right?"

The door slams open, revealing a fuming Karkat. "Who the fuck else would I be talking about, dumbass? Great fucking detective work there, Crocker! I can see why you were promoted to Sergeant!"

Jane frowns, crossing her arms. “Maybe don’t insult your superior officer, Karkat?” She had to make it clear she wasn’t putting up with his bullshit. "How exactly is he 'fucking with you'?" she asks, choosing to let go of the comment he made. She knew that when Karkat was like this, he didn't mean ninety percent of what he said.

"He somehow knew I was gonna do a stakeout, and knew exactly which fucking car I would choose to watch! I wouldn't be surprised if he knows I mistakenly accused that clueless British wimp of being the Jacker! He purposely took English's car to taunt me, to send a message that he knows all about me, while I can't even manage to snag a single lead on him!" Karkat's breathing is heavy by the end of his rant, his hands curled into fists.

Jane knows not to approach Karkat too quickly when he gets this angry. "Well, I have an idea. How about you calm down, go take that guy's statement about his stolen car, and maybe it'll give you a clue as to who the perp might be."

Karkat's face screws up in angry disgust as he crosses his arms. "I already know it's useless. The Jacker is too smart to ever leave clues. He's a slippery motherfucker and the naive idiot I'm taking a statement from isn't gonna be able to give me anything I don't already know!"

"It won't hurt to try!" Jane says with a grin. Karkat only scowls deeper- why so many of his coworkers had to be such enthusiastically optimistic people, he would never know.

"Fine. I'll fucking go. Just give me a minute to cool down." When Jane doesn't leave immediately, Karkat glares at her. "Alone."

Jane rolls her eyes at the growl in Karkat's voice before scurrying out of the bathroom.

Karkat takes a few more deep breaths, trying to slow his racing pulse, before leaving the stall. He stares at himself in the dingy mirror hanging above the sink- tired eyes, furrowed brow, permanent scowl- and splashes some water on his face. Get it together, Vantas.

With his heart beating at a normal tempo and his face displaying a somewhat normal expression, he returns to his desk. He takes English's statement, which contains nothing helpful or noteworthy- the car was stolen in the middle of the night, Jake didn't notice until he woke up, there were no security cameras in the vicinity- and sends him on his way. As soon as the elevator doors close on English, Captain Maryam materializes at Karkat's desk, seemingly out of thin air. "You seem to be under a lot of pressure, Karkat," she says, gentle but firm. "Perhaps you need to step away from this case."

Karkat grits his teeth, glaring up at Kanaya. "With all due respect, Captain, I completely disagree. I can handle this case, and I can catch this guy. Taking a break will only let him run free longer. I will not let this asshole taunt me while I sit on my ass and ignore his case completely!"

Maryam shoots her own withering gaze at her subordinate. "Let me rephrase. As your commanding officer, I order you to take a break from this case. At least for a week. This has clearly been a detriment to your mental health."

"Fuck that!" In an instant, Karkat is standing and in her face- or he would be if he wasn't a foot shorter than her. "You of all people should know how important this case is to me! My 'mental health' is perfectly fine, not that it's any of your business! But go ahead and bring it up with HR if you think my work is a 'detriment' to me!" At this point, he's attracted the attention of most of the precinct, but he doesn't care. If anything, he's used to it.

"Sit down!" Kanaya rarely raises her voice, but on the occasion she does, it strikes fear into the hearts of anyone near enough to hear. Karkat immediately obeys, all the fire in his eyes replaced by abject terror. "It is because this case is so important to you that I want you to take a break. You've been so focused on it that it has negatively affected the rest of your work. You're unable to focus on other cases, your paperwork is sloppy and rushed, and you're distracted in briefings! Take a break." Without waiting for further objection, she returns to her office.

Karkat grips the arms of his chair, staring down at his desk to avoid the worried gazes of his coworkers. Maybe Kanaya was right; maybe he did need a break. Just long enough to let him work on other cases, to emotionally distance himself from the Mustang Jacker.

He grabs the Jacker's case file, opens a desk drawer, and stuffs it under the piles of paper inside. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks, slamming the drawer shut.

With his break officially started, he picks up a different ongoing case to work on, and slowly delegates the Mustang Jacker to the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading on homestuck day! drop a comment


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t like this idea, Dave. Are you sure about doing this?”

“Relax, bro, I got a foolproof plan.”

“But is it a police-proof plan?

“Yeah, I’m telling you, I got it all figured out. Just let me take the fall for you. I mean, it’s my fault they caught you.”

“...Fine.”

~~~~~

Karkat ends up spending two weeks working on other cases before retrieving the Jacker's case file from the depths of his desk and returning his focus on it. Annoyingly enough, the Maryam-suggested time off had actually made him almost indifferent to the Mustang Jacker, treating it like any other case- he just wanted to bring a bad guy justice. There had been a few more thefts in the time he'd spent off, and still no leads that he could see, but he hoped that with fresh eyes he might spot some clue that he'd previously missed. The only thing he really found was a witness contradicting himself in two different statements when asked to describe the Jacker- switching from describing a brunette to a blonde. It wasn't much, and could possibly be explained away by poor memory, but hell if Karkat wasn't going to tease at that small hole until it ripped open the whole case.

As he’s planning to follow up on the contradictory witness, he’s interrupted by a grating voice. “Hey, shithead.”

He turns to see Sollux standing behind him. “What do you want, douchebag?”

“I have something to show you. Follow me.” Sollux is already walking away, not bothering to see if Karkat is actually following him.

“Whoa, hold on, what is it?” Karkat asks, vaulting from his chair.

“You’ll see if you follow me, dumbass.”

“Fine. But if this is the setup to another one of Egbert’s pranks, you’re not gonna see the light of day again.”

“As much as I love to see you take a pie to the face, KK, I would never willingly participate in an Egbert prank and you know it.” He enters one of the interrogation rooms, and Karkat follows, a skeptical look on his face. Behind the two-way mirror sits a man, around mid-30s, cuffed to the table. He has shockingly white blonde hair, brownish-red eyes, and a pair of aviators hanging from the collar of his shirt.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” Karkat asks, gesturing to the glass. “Who is he?”

“Dave Strider. I brought him in for 17 counts of identity theft.”

“Jesus Christ. But why the fuck do you need me?”

“He asked for you.” Sollux paused, scratching his head. “Well, he asked for ‘Cancer or Carmen Vantas or whatever’ but I’m pretty sure he meant you.”

“And why the fuck would he want to talk to me?”

“He said he’s got info on the Mustang Jacker.”

Karkat explodes, throwing his hands in the air. “Well, fuck, why didn’t you  _ lead _ with that, asshole?”

“I like to keep you in suspense. You’re so fucking impatient, it’s kinda funny.”

“Fuck you, I’m going in there. You can follow if you want. On second thought, don’t, I’d rather never see your disgusting visage again.”

“He’s  _ my  _ suspect, I decide who does and doesn’t get to see him.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe  _ I _ decide who I do and don’t suckerpunch in the gut. You’re dangerously close to crossing the line into the ‘do’ category if you don’t let me go talk to this dude.”

“Jeez, KK, I was just messing around. Of course I’m gonna let you talk to him, I’m not  _ that _ stupid. But I’m going in with you.”

“That’s fine. And I wasn’t gonna actually suckerpunch you, for the record.”

“I know.”

“Are we still friends?”

Sollux snorts, pushing up his glasses. “Seriously, KK, we’re too old to still be this insecure about this shit. You’ve been asking me that for the past twenty years.”

Karkat frowns back, crossing his arms. “I just want to make sure.”

“ _Y_ _ es _ , dumbass, we’re still friends.”

“Okay, good. Now that we can present a solid front, let’s go interrogate this asshole.”

“Lead the way.”

The two detectives enter the room, where the guy is leaning back in his chair, lazily inspecting his nails. When they walk in, he grins up at them. “Oh, Detective Lisp is back! I was starting to miss you, man.”

Sollux narrows his eyes at the man. “I have a name, Strider. It’s Detective  _ Captor _ to you.”

“I’d think ‘criminal captor’ would make more sense. I mean, that’s what you do, isn’t it? Catch criminals?”

“I didn’t  _ ask _ for my stupid last name to be what it is. Now shut up.” Sollux straightens, gesturing with one hand at Karkat. “This is Detective Vantas. You will answer all of his questions.”

“No problemo, I’d do anything this smokeshow asked for.” He winks at Karkat, who only sneers in response, sitting down across from Dave.

“Listen up, Strider,” Karkat barks, glaring at him. “I want some no-nonsense answers. What do you know about the Mustang Jacker?”

“Um, we called him Gamz, but whatever.”

Karkat tries to school his expression from becoming too excited. “Is that his name? Have you  _ met _ him?”

“Yeah, dude. And I dunno if that’s his real name, but it’s what he told us to call him.”

“Can you describe him for me?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. He’s a tall, lanky darker-skinned dude. He’s pretty young, probably early thirties. Got this huge mass of black hair, it’s like this big unruly stormcloud.”

Karkat frowns, tapping the table. “That doesn’t match up with a lot of our descriptions.”

Dave shrugs. Up close his eyes are startling, the red standing out almost unnaturally. Karkat wonders whether they’re real or the product of colored contacts. “That’s probably because he told everyone who worked for him to describe him as a ‘short and pudgy white guy’, and for the most part they were pretty loyal. Either that or scared. So... I’m guessing that’s the description you have of him.”

“...Yeah. Though some of the civilian witnesses did describe him as tall and skinny.”

“Then they probably saw Gamz.”

“And how did you know this ‘Gamz’?”

“Like most of the guys who worked for him, I was a mechanic at a chop shop. It was actually a pretty nice gig- good salary, lots of breaks, and you could get away with getting high on the job.” At Karkat’s raised eyebrow, Dave defensively raises his hands. “Not that  _ I  _ ever did that, that shit’s hella irresponsible.”

Karkat crosses his arms, looking over Strider in mild disbelief. “I don’t get it. If the other guys were too scared to talk, why are  _ you _ telling me all this?”

“Because…” Strider leaned forward, smirking, as if he were about to dish the latest gossip in confidence. “I know how to get in touch with him.” As Karkat’s about to reply, Dave puts up a finger. “And I’ll help you  _ if _ , and  _ only  _ if, you clear me of all charges.”

Sollux chimes in before Karkat can agree. “Nope, no fucking way you’re getting off of 17 fucking counts of identity theft.”

“Sollux. Come on.” Karkat puts on his best pleading face- which isn’t saying much. He doesn’t usually plead with people. “You know how important this case is to me. Don’t be a dick.”

Sollux scowled. “Dude, I’m not even being a dick, I’m just being reasonable. I tracked this guy for five months, I’m not gonna let him get off this easy.”

“This might be the only chance I have of getting the Jacker!” It dawns on Karkat that they maybe shouldn’t be having this argument in front of Dave, so he grabs Sollux’s arm, dragging him out of the room. When the door shuts, he continues, his voice more hushed. “Please, dude. This is a big fucking deal for me. The Jacker’s got like 200 suspected GTA charges, surely that trumps this dude’s identity thefts.”

“I don’t know, KK. I don’t like it.” Sollux frowns, tapping his fingers against his arm. “You really think this could get you your guy?”

“One hundred percent. I’ll make a blind promise on it.” It was something that had begun when they were in training camp together. Sollux had “accidentally” sprayed pepper spray in his eyes- really, he wanted to see if he could “take it”- and Karkat had led his blind ass to the nurse, though not before tripping, dropping him down a flight of stairs, and knocking a few teeth out. Nothing that couldn’t be replaced, but needless to say Sollux was pissed. After that, whenever one of them was completely certain about something and wanted to get the other on board, they’d make a ‘blind promise’, basically saying that they’ll take pepper spray to the eyes if they’re wrong. It’s a stupidly dangerous way to make a promise, and they were both well on their way to permanent eye damage, but it did keep them from making promises they couldn’t keep.

Sollux narrows his eyes at Karkat. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Sollux seems to mull it over for a few seconds, his nose scrunched up. “Fine. If you’re that certain of it, we’ll agree to Strider’s deal.”

“Fuck yes. Thanks, dude.”

“I’m only agreeing because I trust you. And because I want to see you get pepper sprayed again.”

“Fuck you!” Karkat walks back into the interrogation room, where Dave is still sitting relaxed, a smug smirk on his face, as if he knows exactly what they decided.

“So?” Dave asks. “Do we have a deal, hot stuff?”

Karkat sighs, sitting back down in front of the handcuffed man. “Yes. You help us, we’ll clear your charges. So how do we get in touch with him?”

“Well, I gotta get my burner phone. I left it at my cousin’s house.”

“Of course you fucking did,” Karkat groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“You know, for cops, you guys sure do cuss a lot.”

“No shit, dumbass. Why don’t you leave the detective work to the actual detectives in the room?”

Dave snorts. “Okay, Sherlock, can’t even catch this ‘Mustang Jacker’, but sure,  _ you’re _ the detectives.”

Karkat scowls at him, crossing his arms. “As if  _ you  _ could do better.”

“Um, isn’t that what I’m here for? To do your jobs for you?”

Seeing the vein twitching in Karkat’s neck, Sollux jumps in before his fellow detective can explode. “You’re  _ here _ because you committed 17 counts of identity theft.”

“Eh, no need to get into the details.” Dave is full on grinning at this point.

“Whatever,” Karkat growls, standing up in a huff. “Let’s go get your stupid burner phone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! it sure has been *checks calendar* a whole fucking month since i last updated this! whoops  
> anyway expect more frequent updates now cause this semester's finally over.  
> thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Karkat drops a handcuffed Dave in the back of an undercover car, taking the wheel as Sollux slid into the passenger seat. “Alright, Strider, what’s the address?”

Dave grins, shifting in the backseat, getting as comfortable as he could with his hands cuffed. “I can just give you directions. I know a faster way.”

Sollux turns to stare at Dave. “Not to offend or anything, but you  _ are _ still a criminal. We can’t exactly trust you to give us the right directions and not, like, lead us into some trap where your friends are waiting.”

Dave snorts at this, rolling his eyes. The red in them flashes in the mid-afternoon light. “Please, how would I even have organized something like that? This isn’t a cop movie or some bullshit like that. I don’t have some secret nefarious plan hidden up my sleeve. Besides, I don’t really have a lot of friends. I’m flying solo, you know?” He gets only stony glares in return. “Alright, okay, fine! I’ll give you the address. I thought we were getting close, but I guess not.”

“Oh, so  _ sorry _ we don’t trust the guy who committed identity theft!” Karkat replies, a little angrier than he intended. He was getting antsy, what with this being the closest he’s gotten to the Mustang Jacker in years. “What’s the address?” Dave lists it off, and Karkat looks it up on Google Maps. “Hm. Looks like a townhouse. Checks out.”

“See? I told y’all you can trust me.” A slight southern drawl colors Dave’s words.

“Are you from the south?” Sollux asks, as Karkat starts the car. “Because last time I checked, ‘y’all’ isn’t a word.”

“And neither is ‘thouth’, but I got enough decency to not make fun of how  _ you _ speak.”

“Douchebag, you were  _ literally _ making jokes about it ten minutes ago!”

“That’s before we became  _ bros _ , Captor!” Sollux scowls at this. “But yeah, I’m from Texas, born and raised. Best state out there, in my opinion.”

Karkat groans, taking a turn a little too sharp. “Ugh, of course you’re all about that Texas pride bullshit. No wonder you’re such an asshole!”

Dave shrugs. “What can I say, man, it’s just the best. Everything’s bigger there. Y’all’re just jealous y’ain’t got that purdy Texas accent.” He lays the accent on thick, grinning the whole time.

“That’s definitely not it,” Karkat replies, scowling. “Also, fuck Texas! It’s just full of racist, homophobic, Republican fucks!”

“Hey, that is a gross misrepresentation of diversity in Texas, dude. Y’all Northerners always like to paint the South in a bad, homogeneous light, which ignores the struggles faced by demographics outside of the stereotypical white Southerner. Which means minority issues get further sidelined. Shit’s mad problematic, yo.”

Sollux blinks, turning to look back at Dave, while Karkat takes his eyes off the road for half a second to stare at Dave in the rearview mirror, aghast. “What the fuck?” Karkat starts. “How do you even... know stuff like that?”

“Hey, just because I’m a criminal don’t mean I ain’t informed on important social issues. I  _ got _ my education just like anyone else.” Dave’s grin just keeps getting wider. “In conclusion, y’all are ignorant, Texas rocks, end of story.”

“Whatever,” Sollux groans, bringing his attention back to the windshield, pointedly ignoring Dave.

Dave just takes this as an invitation to keep rattling off random bullshit. “I mean, hell, I’m a prime example of how diverse the South is. I’m  _ obviously _ not white, just the definition of the melting pot. I guess my ancestors weren’t very picky when it came to food, because they pretty much dumped every possible ingredient into making my genetic soup. Not that I don’t appreciate it, I came out tasting absolutely fabulous, but it does make it hard to answer those ‘what race are you’ questions on government forms. Like, if I had to take a quick guess, it would be ‘all of the above’ because no one else in my family knows  _ dick _ about our family tree.”

“God, do you always talk this much?” Karkat asks, aiming another glare through the rearview.

“It’s my only talent. I mean, aside from identity theft, I guess. And sword fighting, I’m pretty good at that, too. Looking hot, if you can call that a talent. Being cool. Did I mention pole dancing? Shit was hard to learn at first, but  _ man _ is it good exercise.”

Karkat gives a sideways glance to Sollux in an attempt to communicate. _S_ _ word fighting? Who  _ was _ this dude?  _ “Well, could you maybe zip it for two fucking seconds? I’m trying to drive here. Don’t want to end up in an accident or anything.”

“Aw hell yeah, man, safety first, I gotchu. I’ll zip it tighter than a virgin on their wedding day. Not a peep slipping through these lips- and _ yes _ , I  _ did _ mean that as a double entendre.”

“Starting  _ now, _ Strider.”

“Okay, okay, you got it.” Dave mimes zipping up his lips, though no one is watching, and sits silent. For less than a minute. “I didn’t even get to tell you the rest of how non-stereotypically Southern I am.”

Sollux facepalms, nearly smacking his glasses off. “I don’t know if you can read the room, but no one gives a shit. We couldn’t give less of a shit if we had constant constipation. Just shut up.”

“Damn, fine. I’ll be quiet.” He manages to stay silent for the rest of the drive, watching the streets become more familiar as they near his cousin’s address.

Karkat parks the car down the street from the townhouse and climbs out, opening the back. “Alright, let’s go.”

Dave awkwardly shuffles out of the car, but pauses before heading towards the house. “Wait, take off my handcuffs.”

“What? No!”

“Dude, my cuz doesn’t know I’m a criminal. It would break their heart.”

Karkat narrows his eyes at Dave, as Sollux comes around the car to stand next to him. “So? Why would I give a fuck?”

“Please, dude, I don’t want them to know. There’s a reason I’m tryna get my charges dropped. I couldn’t handle it if they knew.”

Karkat duly notes that this ‘cousin’ of Dave’s uses ‘they’ pronouns. Would’ve been nice to know  _ before _ arriving down the street from their home. “Fuck, fine. But any funny business and I promise this cousin of yours  _ will _ know just how much of a criminal you are.”

Dave nods, grinning. “Understood. Thanks, man. Also, uh, y’all gotta pretend you’re not cops. Don’t want my cuz getting suspicious.”

Karkat unhooks the handcuffs, while Sollux stares down Dave. “Are you sure about this, KK? I still don’t trust this dude as far as I can throw him.”

Dave cuts in, rubbing his wrists. “Rude. I’m  _ right _ here.”

“Don’t worry, Sollux, we’ll keep an eye on him the whole time. He’s not getting anywhere.” Karkat pulls off his badge, stuffing it in his pocket. “Go with whatever he says. I just want to get in there, get the burner phone, and leave.”

“Whatever I say, huh? You sure about that?”

“Shut up, idiot,” Karkat and Sollux say at the same time, before both of them go faint red, embarrassed. Dave just keeps smirking at them, amused beyond belief.

“So, if this cousin of yours doesn’t know you’re a rotten lowlife, what  _ does _ she know about you?” Sollux asks, crossing his arms.

“Oh, she thinks I’m a paleontologist.”

Karkat snorts. “Like Indiana Jones?”

“No, idiot, Indy did  _ archaelogy. _ ”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes! God, y’all keep sounding stupider by the minute.”

“Fuck you." Karkat chews his lip, his eyes narrowing. "Why  _ paleontology _ ?”

Dave shrugs, tapping his fingers against his leg in his first hint of nervousness. “I’ve just always liked paleo.”

“No, I mean, why stop there? As long as you’re lying about your profession, why not tell her you’re a fucking astronaut or something?”

“Are you kidding, dude? Space is scary, man! Have you  _ seen _ a single movie about space? Everyone ends up getting stranded up there! Sandra Bullock, Matt Damon in that one movie about Mars, they all get isolated! Shit’s terrifying.”

Karkat is laughing by the end of this, while Sollux just watches the exchange with confusion. “The fuck are you two talking about?”

“Space just ain’t my thing, dude. Now, paleontology, that I can handle. That’s just history, holding time in your hands. Those dinos are too dead to hurt anyone, unless some idiot decides to pull a John Hammond and recreate Jurassic Park. I like my chances against a T-Rex, though. I just do not  _ fuck with _ the cold black emptiness of space.”

“You are so fucking weird,” Sollux says, before glaring at his partner. “Can we get a move on now?”

Karkat regains his composure, wiping a tear away from his eye. It had caught him off guard that Dave could get him to laugh like that- he felt unsteady all of a sudden. “Yeah.” He grabs Dave’s arm, ignoring the mental note admiring the lean muscle he can feel there. “Lead the way, Strider.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	7. not an update

in light of recent events i've decided that for the time being i will not be continuing this fic.

the fact of the matter is the situation in the u.s. is awful and i don't feel comfortable portraying cops in a good light.

until either work is done to combat the systemic racism in this country or the situation becomes less tense, this will most likely remain un-updated. sorry if this comes as a disappointment but you can always check out my non-cop related works!

black lives matter.


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